


turn the tide to true believers

by englishsummerrain



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Esports, Ambiguous Relationships, Drinking, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Professional Gaming, Slow Burn, friends to rivals to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/pseuds/englishsummerrain
Summary: Donghyuck spends three years chasing the Summoner's Cup and five years chasing Renjun.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 38
Kudos: 175
Collections: Haechie Birthday Bash





	turn the tide to true believers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonfleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/gifts).



> hi nee! i don't doubt you know exactly who i am haha :) as soon as i saw this prompt i knew it was the one for me, so thank you for letting me write it! i hope you enjoy this! <3
> 
> for those who don't understand league/esports terms and want a bit more background info, [here is a quick primer!](https://i.imgur.com/m6fiJSd.png) donghyuck plays support and renjun plays jungle. 
> 
> title from the [worlds 2019 song Phoenix.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1IKnWDecwA) for the prompt: renhyuck rival gamers au

Donghyuck finds Renjun in front of the trophy case sometime past midnight. He's wearing slippers shaped like tiger paws and his hair needs a cut. They'd just been in the gaming room together before — on opposite sides of the match — but Donghyuck doesn't remember seeing him leave. The shallow blue glow of the fish tank turns him into a die cut shadow and it's only for his height that Donghyuck recognises him. 

"Renjun," he says. Renjun jumps, eyes going wide. His glasses are slightly askew and when he turns, they shine like he’s a character in a dumb anime. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," Renjun says, even though he's obviously doing something. 

"Having a midlife crisis in front of the trophy case?" 

"I'm eighteen," Renjun says. "I don't think I'm old enough for that yet."

"You've got a grandpa's soul," Donghyuck says. He turns back to see what Renjun is staring at and — he gets it. He still doesn't believe he's here, really — not fully. It seems like a dream come true — to be this close to breaking through. A few months ago he’d been playing for a challenger team for a paycheck that barely qualified as pocket money. Now he’s passed his tryouts. Now he’s signed to _SKT_. He’d watched them hoist the cup in 2016 — and the year before. He’d never even dreamed of being accepted. 

Yet here he is — him and a few other bright eyed kids who somehow made the cut, standing in the halls that had forged world champions.

Standing in front of the trophy case, it's like the entire legacy of the team is bearing down on him.

"I just want to win," Renjun says. "But I don't feel like I'll ever be good enough _to_ win."

Donghyuck doesn't know Renjun — not very well, anyway. At tryouts he’d barely spoken — had just sat in the corner on his phone. It’d been strange at first to see the face behind so many ganks in his games. Renjun had a reputation on the ladder for being vicious and aggressive — but sitting in the room with him had been a tiny Chinese kid with a snaggletooth and a face full of acne who wouldn’t even make eye contact with any of them. 

And here — in front of the trophy case in his pajamas — he's still just a boy. They all are.

"You are good enough. They signed you for a reason."

"Maybe. I don't feel like I'm getting better, though. I'm just. I'm still a solo queue player. I don't know how to play on a team."

That's something Donghyuck understands. For as good as he is at League, it’s nothing when it comes to playing professionally. He has raw mechanical skill, but they want him to lead. They want him to control the lane, to dictate the place of the game. It’s supposed to be him and Renjun — but he finds it hard when Renjun doesn’t say anything. He finds it hard when he and Jaemin don’t quite synergise, when Jeno’s beating the shit out of his lane without muttering a word, when Jisung gets silent in the middle of teamfights. When Donghyuck asks if Renjun wants help warding and Renjun doesn’t answer. They’re all good players, but they’re not a _team_.

“None of us do,” Donghyuck says. Renjun purses his lips.

“Jisung does.”

“Jisung’s a prodigy.”

If they were on any team apart from this one, Donghyuck is pretty sure Jisung would have earned a starting spot the day he turned 17. As it is, he’s a substitute for the _best League of Legends player of all time,_ which really isn’t too shabby. He doesn’t doubt Jisung will receive some ludicrous offer from another team after his contract is up — and he also doesn’t doubt Jisung will take it.

“Great.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say to that. He raises his hand to lay it on Renjun’s shoulder, then thinks better of it, clenching it into a fist and letting it drop to his side.

“What’s your favourite kind of food?” Renjun asks. He’s still staring straight ahead at the 2013 Spring Split cup, and the question comes so far out of left field it takes a second for Donghyuck to register it.

“Uh. Jajangmyeon? Why?”

Renjun shrugs a shoulder. “Dunno. Just wondering.”

The fridge hums and Donghyuck stares for a second longer, waiting for Renjun to say something more. When he doesn't, he shuffles along, back to the practice room and the siren song of solo queue.

  
  


  
  


Four days later finds Donghyuck slumped in his seat, defeat screen taunting him. He’s the only one in the practice room right now — Jisung is scrimming and won't be back for a few hours, Renjun left half an hour ago, and Jaemin and Jeno have gone out — for what, Donghyuck doesn’t know. Maybe some fresh air, though it’s the ass end of winter and there’s still snow on the sidewalks and he can’t imagine it’s particularly pleasant to wade through dirty slush.

Either way, he’s all alone.

All alone for about five fucking seconds, until Renjun makes his return with two takeout bags in hand. He drops a carton of something in front of Jeno's computer, another beside Jaemin's, then a third beside Donghyuck, yawning widely and placing the remaining beside his keyboard.

“What’s this?” Donghyuck asks, pointing at the carton. 

Renjun shrugs. “You looked hungry.”

Renjun probably has a point — he’d woken up a few hours ago and come straight to the practice room, skipping breakfast entirely save for a can of coffee. He _is_ kind of hungry. Their coach did always try to make sure they ate breakfast but the trainees didn’t get it as much as the main roster did. They weren’t being checked about keeping in good health — not yet, anyway. As if to confirm his words Donghyuck’s stomach grumbles. 

“Thanks,” he says, hesitant. He picks up the carton and sniffs it, then pops the lid off. It’s jajangmyeon. 

“Rough loss?” Renjun asks, sitting down in his chair again and waving his mouse to wake up his monitor. Donghyuck tears the disposable chopsticks from the paper and snaps them apart, glancing back to the scoreboard still open on his screen. The scoreline didn’t betray how hard they’d worked that game — it was an uphill slog, all to be lost by their mid lane being caught half an hour in and allowing the enemy team to break open the base.

He shrugs. “It’s solo queue. You win and you lose.”

“That doesn’t sound like a winner’s attitude.”

“What does a winner’s attitude sound like?”

Renjun purses his lips then laughs. “I don’t know, honestly.”

“Does it sound like ‘my AD carry was a monkey who couldn’t find his way out of bronze 4 even if he was scripting?’”

“Was your AD carry a monkey?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck laughs. “I had to spoon feed him kills to even get him going.”

“Identifying the lanes that can win you the game is a good start. Sounds like you did a poor job.”

“I’m pretty sure she was playing with her monitor off,” Donghyuck groans. “What else was I supposed to do? What are you anyway, our coach?”

“I’m your jungler.”

“Control freak,” Donghyuck says.

“That’s a bad stereotype.”

“It’s a true one.” He picks through his noodles, revelling in the delicious smell wafting from them. “They’re all true. You’re all masochistic, too. Why else would you pick a role where your job is to be verbally abused for thirty minutes at a time?”

Renjun shrugs. “My friends didn’t have a jungler so they kind of forced me into it. Plus I liked being invisible.”

“Sounds about right.”

“What’s what supposed to mean?”

Donghyuck has to stop himself from laughing. He’s been making the ‘no wonder he mains Evelynn, because he’s always invisible’ joke for weeks now, and to have Renjun make it himself is like some delicious kind of irony. “To be honest, I wasn’t even sure you were real before last week,” Donghyuck says. “You never talk.”

“I talk plenty,” Renjun says. He’s opened up his carton of takeout and has started to spoon it into his mouth, chewing between his sentences. Donghyuck picks up a load of noodles and stuffs them into his mouth, black bean sauce flicking onto his keyboard. 

“This is the most I’ve seen you talk outside of a match.”

“Maybe you’re not paying attention.”

“We live together. How am I not paying attention?”

To that he receives a wink and a knowing smile from Renjun. “How’s the jajangmyeon, huh?”

“It’s good,” Donghyuck says. It’s an easy distraction — but the food _is_ really good, honestly. The restaurant across the road that Jeno likes makes it far too sweet, and the one a block down he goes to with Jisung sometimes seems to skip out on every possible kind of flavour. “Where’d you get this from?”

"Place a couple of stations away. Bit of a queue but I reckon it's worth it, right?"

Donghyuck nods, licking the sauce off his lips. "It's delicious. Thanks."

"No worries." 

“You wanna take me there some time?” Donghyuck asks. It’s a bit bold. It’s a bit bold, but Donghyuck’s mother did always say he didn’t know when to stop.

Renjun raises his eyebrows. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Why not.”

They finish up their meals in silence. Renjun’s got a stream open on his monitor, and he watches it while he eats, giving Donghyuck plenty of time to watch _him._ He looks nice. His nose has a cute slope and his eyes go wide as the streamer — Donghyuck can’t see the guy’s facecam, but he suspects it might be Taeyong — gets a double kill. He keeps pausing with his food halfway to his mouth and honestly it's kind of endearing. Donghyuck thinks he could get used to his presence.

Renjun sticks his carton back in the bag and eyes the box he'd left beside Jaemin's keyboard before sighing. "Do you know where they went?"

"For a walk," Donghyuck says. "Jeno likes the cold because he's insane. He says it helps clear his nostrils."

"Funny. It makes mine stuffy as hell. I get all snotty and gross and have to blow my nose like fifty times an hour."

Donghyuck blinks. Renjun isn't even looking at him, he's still watching his screen. "I don't have a problem with the cold?" Donghyuck tries.

"Lucky you. My mum always makes fun of me. She says I loved to play in the snow back home but she'd always have to clean up all this frozen snot from my face. It's her favourite story to tell — every winter like clockwork."

"Back home?"

"Oh," Renjun says. He flips back and forth between his match history and the main page of the League client. "Yeah. I'm from Jilin. We have a lot of snow. There's an ice festival and everything. The river temperature is all weird and because of it we get rime all over the place. It's pretty cool. Bad place for a kid that's terrible with snow, though."

"That's cool but I have no idea what Jilin is." 

Renjun laughs. He swivels around in his chair to face Donghyuck again. "It's a city in China. Way up north."

"Oh," Donghyuck says. He doesn't have any cool stories like that. He lived in Jeju when he was in middle school, but they didn't have ice festivals. Just lots of stone statues and an affinity for tangerines. "I'm from Seoul." 

"Me too, now — I guess."

"How long have you lived here?" 

"Since I was eleven."

"Do you like it?"

"Sure," Renjun says. A beat of silence follows. "I mean it's different, but I like it, yeah." He glances back at his screen and brings up the League client with a sigh. "Do you want to duo?"

Donghyuck pauses for a second, racking his brain. He’s pretty sure he’s never actually queued with Renjun. "Yeah,” he says, hesitant. Renjun turns back and looks at him with raised eyebrows, and he chases it up with reassurance. “That'd be good."

“One taste and you’re never gonna go back to those solo queue junglers,” Renjun laughs. 

“You’re talking like we’ve never played together.”

“You’ll see the difference,” Renjun says. 

Donghyuck huffs a laugh and accepts his invite. He’s not sure about it, but he’ll take the leap anyway.

  
  
  
  


Despite the strange start it turns out that he and Renjun get on like a house on fire. Renjun is just as quick as he is — if not even quicker — and their conversations flow as easily as wine at a party. If he starts gaming earlier than Renjun, Renjun will wait for him to queue up, and if they become out of sync — Donghyuck scrimming, Renjun going for lunch, Donghyuck being distracted by Jaemin’s new video obsession (a live feed of rescue cats he keeps open on his second monitor and watches with a dopey smile) — they’ll delay their next game to queue together again. Renjun takes him out for the promised lunch and they eat together, swapping stories about their lives. 

There’s something interesting about Renjun. This boy Donghyuck had once assumed to be shy, suddenly opening up. He has so much to say, it often ends with him spraying food across the table — and okay, it’s fucking gross, but Donghyuck appreciates the enthusiasm. He appreciates that Renjun has so much in him, like he’s just been waiting to talk to someone and let it all out. He appreciates that somehow it’s _him_ that Renjun has chosen to let it all out on. Renjun and Jaemin had already been friends before they’d both passed their tryouts and Donghyuck had figured that Renjun’s coldness had meant that he simply didn’t want another friendship. But to have this now — to have Renjun babbling away to him about the time in middle school he got into a food fight, to have Renjun talk about skipping his year 11 mid-terms to go play at the PC bang. 

It’s really, really nice. 

  
  
  
  
  


The year passes by quickly. Often it’s just the four of them in the dorm — Jisung turns seventeen and starts to travel with the starting squad to the LCK studio, leaving a perpetually empty spot in the practice room. Jaemin considers taping his keyboard to the underside of his desk as an act of revenge, but instead just settles for covering his seat in post-its during a particularly long queue time that finds Jeno beatboxing until Renjun threatens bodily harm on him.

(They lose that game.)

The year passes by quickly, and he grows as close to Renjun as he is to Jeno — closer, maybe. Jeno is his best friend, but Renjun is something else. Donghyuck likes talking to Jeno, but when he talks to Renjun sparks fly. They spend late nights in the Seoul summer together, huddling under the awnings in alleyways and getting street food under the dancing neon lights. Renjun feeds him tteokbokki off a toothpick and Donghyuck gets sauce all over his lips — and Renjun has a solution for that, too: wiping it off with his thumb then licking it up. 

Donghyuck doesn’t have time to process it before he’s fed another rice cake. The rain thrums down around them and Renjun smiles at him — something unreadable, frozen forever in a freeze frame as lightning strikes the horizon. Donghyuck doesn’t know why, but the moment sticks in his mind. Nineteen years old in the Seoul rain, humidity thick on his skin, huddled against Renjun with spice kicking along his tongue. There’s something mundane about it — something special. 

They spend the spring together too — sitting in their dorm and watching the dreams of another trophy slowly slip from their team’s hands. They clink their soju bottles together and Donghyuck curls up against Renjun’s side, resting his head on his shoulder as SKT lose yet another team fight.

“Do you think that’ll be us one day?” Renjun asks. His voice is low and the lights are off. Their contracts expire soon, and Donghyuck has already received an offer from an American team. He doesn’t know if he’ll take it.

“What, losing?”

“At worlds.”

Donghyuck hums. He thinks of the conversation they’d had the start of the year — how unsure they’d both been. He doesn’t know, in all honesty. He doesn’t know if he’s cut out for it. But he can dream. “Yeah,” he says. “It’ll be me carrying your ass all the way across the finish line.”

“You’ve got that the wrong way around,” Renjun says.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Renjun chuckles, reaching up to tousle Donghyuck’s hair. “Then I’ll just have to show it to you, eh?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Their contracts are almost up and Donghyuck is surely the most surprised of all of them when SKT offer him a renewal. He didn’t think his performance had been particularly good — sure, he’d improved, but there were so many more hungry players from solo queue they could easily replace him with. Clearly they see something in him though — in Jeno too. Donghyuck’s spot is a substitute spot — but Jeno’s is a starter, and honestly Donghyuck can't believe it. A starting spot on _SKT._

In the end they both take it. 

Jisung gets a renewal offer too but Donghyuck’s hunch turns out to be right — he goes to Afreeca. Donghyuck doesn’t blame him — a starting spot over a substitute spot is a hard deal to beat — and he thinks if he was as good as Jisung he'd have done the same. Jaemin doesn’t get another contract but he seems happy enough — he goes to America, to play on a B tier LCS team and soak up the California sunshine — and maybe the most surprising of all is that Renjun doesn’t get a renewal either. 

The day after Donghyuck resigns his contract, Renjun moves out. There’s nothing cold about him — he still talks to Donghyuck, still makes jokes with Jeno (Jisung and Jaemin are long gone) but even so Donghyuck can sense there’s something lingering.

Bitterness? Resentment? He wants to apologise to Renjun, but he feels like there’s nothing to apologise for. He wants to reassure him, but when Renjun looks at him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes Donghyuck bites his tongue instead and takes the goodbye hug.

“I’ll see you around,” Renjun says. 

Donghyuck smiles at him. “See you in solo queue,” he says.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck was not a liar when he said he’d see him in solo queue, and the day after he leaves Renjun smashes Donghyuck into the dirt three games in a row. He messages him and laughs about it being a good game and receives a smiley face in return. Renjun stays active in their group chat — though more than anything it’s his profile photo popping up to show that he’s typing, then disappearing without saying anything. The pattern of the one word replies continues with every message Donghyuck sends to him, and when he asks Jeno what’s up, Jeno shrugs — he says that Donghyuck was the closest to him out of all of them, even Jaemin.

If anyone should know, it should be him.

Donghyuck sits on the bench the entire spring split, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t see Renjun backstage at the LCK studio plenty of times. Their eyes lock, once or twice, and when Donghyuck goes to open his mouth and he’s met with raised eyebrows that make him reconsider. 

It kind of hurts. It’s like a wound he didn’t even know had been opened, a sting every time he sees Renjun’s name — or his face, flashing up on the big screen as he gets a triple kill against Damwon and clutches out the game.

Even at the after parties — even when Donghyuck is subbed in for his first big stage game and shakes hands with Renjun after a hard fought battle — there’s no real words exchanged. Renjun doesn’t even seem to acknowledge him beyond emoting on top of his body every time he kills him in solo queue. 

Donghyuck isn’t sure what he did wrong. He’s not even sure he did anything wrong — he just knows something has happened. He messages Renjun again — asking him if there’s anything he needs to apologise for, and when he receives a ‘no’ in response, he buries it.

It’s the nail in the coffin, and Donghyuck tries to accept it. It’s like swallowing a boulder — a lump in his throat that never quite goes away — but he figures he has to.

Some things just aren’t meant to be.

  
  
  
  
  
  


SKT slumps hard. They don’t end up qualifying for worlds, and Jeno mopes around the dorm for days when they drop out of the summer split playoffs, eventually dragging Donghyuck out to go get smashed with him in a fancy club that ends up with him grinding on Jeno’s ass and making out with him on the dance floor. They don’t go much further than that, but for Donghyuck it’s nice enough. He’s painfully lonely and there’s only so many nights he can spend hugging his pillow before he starts crying in the shower. Jeno is attractive and warm and his laugh is sweet and he picks Donghyuck up, forcing him to wrap his legs around his waist as he pins him against the wall and kisses him until he's breathless.

They giggle into the kiss and Donghyuck’s head hits the poster pinned to Jeno’s corkboard and it’s then that Jeno lets him down with a _woah_ , dropping him onto the bed where he spills out in a puddle of limbs and deflating laughter. They’re both piss drunk and Donghyuck can barely see straight and he’s thankful, again, that Jeno at least has a modicum of sense in him. 

They sleep together — not like that — but in the way that Donghyuck throws all his limbs over Jeno’s body and cuddles into him. In the way that when he wakes up with an insane hangover Jeno is there to hold up his head as it all comes back up. 

“I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?” Donghyuck asks, spitting bile into the toilet. Jeno smiles at him.

“No,” he says. “Nothing stupider than what you normally would.”

Donghyuck groans. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Yeah, well,” Jeno says with a tight lipped smile, his eyes shining with something sad. “I could tell your heart wasn’t in it.”

Donghyuck rests his cheek against the plastic of the toilet seat, once again thanking Korean society for their penchant for heated seats. He hums in response, not sure if he can muster up much more.

“You're lovely, Donghyuck," Jeno says, and Donghyuck smiles. "But you called me Renjun.”

Donghyuck throws up again.

  
  
  
  
  


Not making it to worlds apparently means little when it comes to offers when their contracts expire. Donghyuck receives offers from everywhere — Europe, North America, domestic teams, Brazil — even Turkey. 

He talks about it with Jeno and Jeno shows him an inbox full of the same, which makes sense. Despite their middling performance Jeno had been a standout. At twenty there's so much potential in him, and Donghyuck understands why every other team wants a slice of the Bulwark pie. Another year is another chance to hone his skills and his brand. He’ll be in big demand — even if he declines all the American offers some LPL team will doubtless pay big bucks for him.

It’s America that tempts Donghyuck. Jaemin entertains their group chat with stories of the LCS — with American food and American boys, with dicking around in solo queue and receiving thousands of dollars for coming sixth place. It’s mighty tempting — a holiday from the Korean pressure cooker. Time to soak up the sun and enjoy himself.

It’s _too_ tempting. Jeno renews with SKT, but Donghyuck doesn’t. Team Liquid offer him enough money that he rationalises it in his head as a well deserved break. 

"You're wasting your best years if you go to America," Jeno says. 

He’s already one of the best top laners in the LCK — it’s easy enough for him to say. He has the potential to be the best in the world, and a year in NA would be a slump. Donghyuck, though? He’s middle of the pack. He’s good enough to be on SKT, but he’s not a world champion. Jeno had missed out on All Stars last year only by the merit that he was still a rookie. No one even knows who Donghyuck is. America is a good place to make a name.

Renjun goes to China, of all places (though Donghyuck isn't entirely surprised — he _is_ Chinese). He gets an offer for a salary big enough to pay his rent back home and then some, and Donghyuck doesn't blame him. It’s the same rationale as his — he's certainly not coming to America to win worlds. He's coming to America to show off and make money, and he doesn’t doubt Renjun is doing the same. He knows there’s a fire in Renjun’s belly, but maybe the siren song is too much for him to resist.

Maybe the fire has gone out. Donghyuck doesn’t know. He tries not to think about Renjun too much. They don’t speak anymore, and though Donghyuck still watches his stream in some vain hope that Renjun might mention him, he receives no validation of the sort. It’s like he’s forgotten Donghyuck had existed. All those late night restaurant runs, being caught in the rain and riding the Han together on rented bikes, trawling through underground malls trying on second hand coats and buying bungeoppang to eat on the bus ride up Mount Namsan. Snapped away, crossed out like a mistake on a test. Like a forgotten journal thrown into the trash.

Donghyuck wraps it all up inside and swallows it. He rests his head against the window of the plane and watches the lights of Incheon get smaller and smaller and leaves it all behind. America is a new start. He’s not Donghyuck anymore. He’s Solar. Just Solar, once a SKT support. 

No one knows his name, and he’s going to have fun with it.

  
  
  
  
  


The apartment he’s shown is insane — it’s huge, overlooking downtown LA with sweeping wall to ceiling windows, though most of it is unused owing to the fact that — like SKT — Liquid spends all their time in the training facility. He shares his room with their AD carry — a Chinese import who seems to laugh far too much and is so insanely aggressive it makes Donghyuck want to stick his head through his monitor. He's also really fucking good, and Donghyuck thinks he can understand why Liquid paid big bucks for Chenle. 

He's nice, too. Donghyuck's sloppy Chinese (taught to him by Renjun — he doesn’t want to think about that too long) helps him out and they get along. He buys a lot of takeout for Donghyuck and Donghyuck decides his favourite food is actually In-N-Out burgers. Fuck jajangmyeon. Fuck tteokbokki. Fuck the ramen bar he and Renjun used to eat at on Friday nights. America is good and the food is good and Jaemin was right — the boys are good, too. It doesn’t matter that his English is basically a Rosetta Stone nightmare of phrases he’s picked up from seedy porn videos and TikTok memes — you don’t need to speak the same language to fuck someone’s brains out. 

It’s good for a few months. The spring split starts and Liquid does well enough — they’re middle of the pack, dropping games left and right but also crushing them when it comes down to it. They end the season on a massive win streak and secure a playoffs spot, dropping in the semifinals and cinching a 3rd place finish. It’s enough for Rift Rivals, and Donghyuck is happy with that. America is tough, but it’s not as tough as Korea. It’s what he’d needed — a break from the hustle and bustle. 

It’s good. He swears it’s good. He doesn’t miss Seoul and the SKT dorm, doesn’t miss waking up in the early morning to find Jeno passed out on the couch. He doesn't miss Korean solo queue and all the familiar names. He doesn't miss the busy streets and the crowded alleyways and the ahjummas hawking food at him from stalls and almost being run over by scooters and all the little things that make Seoul _Seoul_. 

It’s four am and he’s in the Team Liquid apartment, sitting on the couch and drinking a can of Chilsung from the box he’d begged their manager to pick up at the Korean grocer. The chef they employ is great, but the majority of the various eSports teams that are a part of Liquid are composed of born and raised Americans. There’s another Korean import on their Valorant team, and two Korean-Americans on their DOTA 2 squad, but it’s not enough for them to eat the food more than once in a blue moon. 

Donghyuck opens up his phone and goes to their old SKT trainees group chat. The last message is from Jisung, a selfie of him and Jeno at KBBQ with the new SKT roster. He flicks over to Jeno’s name and goes to message him, trying to do the timezone conversion in his head. It’s 8pm in Seoul and Jeno’s probably in the middle of a game right now, or eating dinner, or going for a walk on the rain slick streets. He probably doesn’t want to be bothered. 

Donghyuck bites his lip and flicks to the right (and again, and again) until he comes to the last conversation he’d had with Renjun. Wishing him good luck in China, and receiving a good luck wish in turn. Their conversations before that are all scattered and the longer he reads them the more his stomach twists up — something strange and bitter, like he’s drinking coffee grounds. It sticks on his tongue and he turns his phone off, throwing it onto the end of the couch and cradling his drink with both his hands.

He doesn’t miss home. He doesn’t miss _him_.

_He doesn’t_.

  
  
  
  
  


The summer split is fine. Liquid plays well enough and they qualify for Worlds without much kerfuffle — losing out to Cloud 9 in the Summer playoffs but earning enough circuit points that they scrape by with second seed.

SKT clinch the first seed for Korea and Afreeca get the third, which means on a Saturday night two weeks out from the opening ceremony of the World Championship he’s at a brightly lit bar slamming down beers with Jeno and Jisung. Jeno greets him with a bear hug and a raucous laugh and Jisung just grins at him so wide Donghyuck wonders how his face doesn’t break.

“You got a fucking tan!” Jeno says. They clink their mugs together and scull down gulp after gulp. It's a German bar and the beer is far better than anything he’s tasted — better than the watery American beers and mediocre Korean ones he’s used to. He lets out a loud burp as he finishes and receives a clap on the back from Jisung.

“Of course I got a tan! It’s fucking California!”

“I’m surprised you’re leaving the house!”

“They make us! They say it’s good for team morale. Maybe it is, I don’t know. But I’ll take it.”

“So America is treating you well?”

“It’s pretty great,” Donghyuck says. Jeno flags down the bartender and orders another round of beers, adding in a fourth that sits on the bar when it arrives, untouched by any of them, foam slowly rescinding down the edge of the mug.

They catch up about League, but more than anything they catch up about their lives. SKT has adopted the Chinese mentality of healthy bodies make healthy minds and Jeno’s started to hit the gym — same with Jisung, actually. He rolls up his sleeve and flexes his bicep at Donghyuck, who aims a kick for his shin. The last time he’d seen Jisung he’d been as thin as a beanpole and out of breath every time he’d tried to move his chair to somewhere else in the practice room. Thinking about a world in which a muscular Jisung exists feels like living in opposite land — completely impossible. Yet here he is. Here he is picking Donghyuck up and carrying him bridal style around the room before dumping him back in front of his seat without breaking a sweat. Donghyuck laughs and climbs back up into his seat, and then someone else laughs too and chimes in.

“I’m calling time out on that.”

It’s not Jeno — nor Jisung. Oh, it’s a voice he recognises sure enough — it’s a voice that used to ring out around the SKT practice room, and makes Donghyuck’s heart thunder like a herd of wild horses the second he hears it. Jeno leans back in his seat and Renjun tilts his head to the side, smiling ever so slightly as he locks eyes with Donghyuck and raises his beer.

It lights something in Donghyuck’s stomach, but he’s not about to show it. He just smooths it over with a smile and raises his eyebrows at Renjun. “Fancy seeing you here. Thought you were basking in obscurity?”

“OMG are second seed for China, thank you very much,” Renjun says with a sneer. “And that’s rich coming from someone in the LCS anyway. I guess they have to hand out participation prizes, don’t they?”

It’s the same Renjun as always — that spark behind his eyes, the fire that Donghyuck had been wondering about being quenched burning brighter than ever.

Jeno whistles. “Save it for the rift, will you guys?”

“Of course,” Renjun says with a smile. “SKT reunion, right?”

“He’s still on SKT,” Jisung says, pointing to Jeno — who’s actually still wearing his SKT jacket, the garment coming complete with his IGN stitched into the back like a big neon sign.

“Does that make him our mascot?”

“He’s basically Korea’s mascot at this point. Can we co-opt him?”

“He was ours first,” Renjun says. “If anything, they’re co-opting him from us.”

“True,” Jisung says.

Donghyuck has been thankful for Jisung a lot — for everything from the carries in solo queue to the midnight chats they’ve had, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be more thankful for Jisung than he is at this moment. Jisung sweeps up Renjun’s attention and leaves Donghyuck to talk with Jeno, and although it’s still like he can’t breathe — a feeling he doesn’t examine for too long — it’s easier to let the night slip in an alcoholic haze. He tries not to look at Renjun too much — only stealing glances when he’s so sure his attention is captured by Jisung — who almost knocks over his beer twice with how sweeping his hand gestures are.

God, Renjun is good looking. Donghyuck has kept up with him vaguely but the official photos and his shitty stream webcam do no justice to just how much Renjun shines in person. His eyes keep sparkling and he laughs openly — throwing his head back and slapping his knees and hanging onto Jisung to stop himself from falling off his seat. He’s fucking good looking and fucking electric and Donghyuck fucking hates it.

Donghyuck hides his glances from Renjun, but he completely forgets about Jeno, who gives him a knowing smile when their eyes meet again.

“Shut up,” Donghyuck says. Jeno laughs.

“Alright.”

“Don’t start, seriously. There’s nothing to say. We still don’t talk, that’s it.” Someone on the other side of the bar shouts in German, something that sounds uproariously fun and angry at the same time. “Why did you fucking invite him without telling me?”

“I didn’t think there was any animosity there,” Jeno says. “But am I wrong?”

“There is absolutely nothing,” Donghyuck says. He drains the last of his mug and flags down the bartender, forgoing another beer for a shot of something harder. “He stopped talking to me, and that’s it.”

“And you’re sulking now?”

“He’s the one with the problem. Wanting to act like we’ve never even met in our lives before. It’s like he’s off the team and suddenly he’s too fucking good for me.”

Jeno just raises his eyebrows. "And that's it?'

"Yeah," Donghyuck picks up the shot the bartender hands him and downs it, wincing as it burns his throat. "And that's it."

  
  
  
  
  


He gets drunk that night. Not too drunk — not 'SKT just dropped out of Summer playoffs' drunk — but drunk enough the fact that Jeno invited Renjun along doesn't bother him much. It still sits in the back of his head but he can forget about it and dance with Jisung instead when they head to a nightclub together. Jeno's brought along the rest of SKT and the rest of SKT bring along Damwon and Afreeca and the nightclub becomes ground zero for team Korea. It's enjoyable to see all the familiar faces and more enjoyable to hear a familiar language. The DJ blasts Twice's latest single and Jeno slut drops in front of him, laughing when he loses his balance and has to beg Damwon's top laner to pick him up.

It's loud and bright and there's a warm sensation in Donghyuck's stomach and he even makes out with Jisung for a bit — just for fun, just because he can. That's what all of this is — just for fun. It's a tournament that he didn’t ever think he’d make and he's partying with his friends and — god.

"I fucking hate America," he yells in the guy beside him's ear. Said guy turns around — he thinks he's SKT's jungler, though Donghyuck doesn't actually know — and gives him a thumbs up. "Sorry," Donghyuck adds.

The bars start closing down and he follows Jeno outside when he needs to vape, leaning against a mural of a phoenix rising from the ash of a burning city painted against the wall. The air smells like motor oil and piss and there's a strange edge to it — the buzz of the neon lights, or maybe just the beer and bodily fluids splattered against the pavement.

"I fucking hate America," Donghyuck repeats.

"I know," Jeno says. He blows a cloud of smoke in the air. "You seem miserable."

"I don't know why. It's sunny and warm and I get a fuck ton of money and my room is like twice the size of the SKT ones and all the boys are hot and yet…"

"And yet you make out with Jisung on the dance floor and burn holes in the back of Renjun's head when you see him for the first time in a year and tell my jungler how much America sucks and spook him."

"Sorry," Donghyuck says. Jeno just bumps their shoulders together.

"It's okay. The scaring him part. The rest is confusing. You trying to make him jealous?"

"Why would he ever be jealous? He fucking hates me."

"Where did you get that idea from?"

"Where didn't I? Or have you got information you want to share with the class?"

Someone rides past them, ringing the bell on their bike as Jeno breathes out another cloud of minty smoke, shaking his head at the end of the long breath. His name is stitched down the side of his arm too, Donghyuck notices.

_‘Bulwark’_. It's a fitting name for someone who's a bastion to Donghyuck. He's protected him from so much bullshit — from giving up on his dream, from his own mistakes, from throwing himself into the fire because Donghyuck doesn't have the foresight to think more than 10 seconds ahead half the time. He's Donghyuck's best friend, but he's Korea's pride too — already in contention for being one of the best top laners they've ever produced.

It's funny. Donghyuck forgets who they are sometimes, which is ironic considering his entire life is dedicated to League. But here he just feels like they're just two boys on the roadside, talking about life, talking about problems. A reunion after half a year apart, two university friends, maybe.

"I don't have anything," Jeno says. "But you should try talking to him, maybe."

Donghyuck laughs. It comes out a lot more bitter than he'd intended. "It doesn't matter. Why should it matter?"

Jeno raises his eyebrows at him, but if he has anything to say he holds his tongue.

  
  
  
  
  


None of them have to go through playoffs, though what Donghyuck had hoped would mean more meetings with Jeno of course just turns into scrims. It's hard to get the Koreans to play with them, and even harder to get the Chinese, and mostly they just end up playing against the European and LMS teams — though as the group stages loom the pattern seems to change.

They scrim OMG three days in a row. Renjun camps Donghyuck in every single game, and it's like a repeat of when he'd left SKT all over again. Spamming emotes on his body, making risky plays just to make sure Donghyuck dies. It drives Donghyuck insane, and he has to bite his tongue and message Jeno to make sure he doesn't go over to OMG's hotel and just strangle Renjun in his sleep.

He doesn't know why it bothers him so much. He keeps going over it but it makes no fucking sense, because Renjun really hasn't done anything. It's just banter — just a friendly rivalry. They were just friends who were on a team once. Jeno does the same thing to him — when he drops down bot lane on a teleport gank and kills Donghyuck he dances on top of his body, then types in chat that he's sorry.

It's just people he knows messing with him. Yet Jeno doesn't stick in the back of his head — not the way Renjun does. It's maddening. It's stupid.

"He's getting into your head," Jeno says. "Psychological warfare. That's what coach always says. League is as much about your mental as it is about your mechanical skills. You can't let him get to you."

"That's easy for you to say."

Jeno shrugs. "Some people just know how to dig into your psyche. Don't let it affect you. I know you guys were friends, but that's all done now, isn't it?"

Donghyuck sighs and finishes off his energy drink, throwing the empty can across the room. It hits the wall and rebounds into the trash basket. "Yeah. It's over. You're right."

Jeno's hand comes down on his shoulder and he shakes him in reassurance. "C'mon. You gotta at least give me some competition, right?"

  
  
  
  
  


Chenle flops down onto his bed beside him, his limbs going everywhere like he's a soft toy dropped from a crane machine. "Donghyuck," he whines. Donghyuck knows it means he wants something from him — he only uses his real name when he's trying to curry favour. Otherwise it's always his IGN — 'Solar, let's tower dive. Solar, come here and help me with this. Solar, how do I pick up Korean boys?'

"What?" Donghyuck asks. He has to be asleep soon — they both should be, really. They have scrims from nine to four tomorrow and Donghyuck is already tired as hell, and he knows Chenle has a tendency to talk his ear off when he really gets into it.

"You used to play with Afreeca's mid laner, right?"

"Who? Jisung?"

"GGsung? Yeah."

"Yeah. We were on SKT together. Why?"

Chenle rolls over to face him, eyes wide and pleading. "Can you introduce me to him? Pretty please?"

"What?"

Chenle blinks. It's a good puppy dog impression — Donghyuck knows by now Chenle is a lot more devious than he appears, but he's also so fucking cute, he's almost willing to believe his facade of innocence. "Please?"

"Do you even speak Korean?"

"I could learn for him," Chenle says.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. There's something serious in his voice, though he doesn't understand why. He thinks on it for a second — he's not sure how Chenle's whirlwind enthusiasm would ever pair with Jisung. Or maybe he's just looking for a hookup. He doubts it, though. Chenle doesn't seem the type.

"Sure," Donghyuck says. It's the least he can do, really. Chenle's grown a lot in the year he's known him — from a hotshot rookie into someone he actually enjoys playing alongside. His rough edges are still there, but they're turned outwards, used as a weapon to keep the enemy on their toes.

He's going to miss him when he goes back to Korea, that's for sure. It's not an if, but a when. Donghyuck has to go home. He misses Seoul more than he'd ever thought possible, and no amount of money will keep him in America. Before he leaves though he's happy to do Chenle a favour or two — a parting gift for someone who's helped him feel a little less lonely so far away from home.

  
  
  
  
  


Liquid don't make it past group stages, which isn't really a surprise. Donghyuck doesn't let the disappointment linger too long — he just takes it for what it is. He hadn't even intended to make it to Worlds — every playoff game is a bonus to him, and he takes the anxiety from the big stage and pockets it. He learns from it — it makes him a better player.

OMG top their group, as do SKT, and Afreeca come third, dropping them out of contention and meaning Donghyuck can drag Jisung along to dinner with the rest of Liquid to fulfill his promise of introducing Chenle to him. That's something else he learns from. Chenle almost doesn't need the introduction — he pulls out the seat beside Jisung and sits down, immediately offers his hand and introduces himself before Donghyuck can get a word in edgeways.

  
  
  
  


As Donghyuck watches them over dinner — broken Korean and Chinese and English all mixed together with enough hand gestures to make an Italian blush — he feels something settle in the pit of his stomach. A happiness, surely. Jisung is giggling and Chenle is cackling and they both can't stop grinning — but there's something else. He cuts up his chicken breast and stuffs it into his mouth, hoping maybe if he eats enough it'll settle down, but he knows it's a false hope. Chenle is going forward while Donghyuck moves around in circles — but what else can he do?

  
  
  
  


Renjun is the MVP for OMG's quarterfinal win and Donghyuck watches his interview with barely concealed conceit. Chenle spends most of his time with Jisung and it means Donghyuck is completely free to lounge around in their shared room in his boxers and throw chips at the TV whenever Renjun's face comes on. He's talking in Chinese to the interviewer — though his voice is quiet compared to the Korean translator dubbed over him — and there's a smug smile plastered across his face. Donghyuck's pretty much fucking sick of him, and he's trying not to pay too much attention to the interview at this point. Renjun's talking about the success OMG have had with their new roster, then passes it back to the interviewer.

"There's a lot of good players at Worlds this year," she asks him. "Is there anyone you've got your eye on? Someone you really want to play against?"

Renjun chews his lip and looks away, before laughing and holding the microphone up.

"Well," he starts, and it takes Donghyuck a second to realise that he can understand him. That Renjun is speaking _Korean_. "I think most of my old SKT teammates. But there's one player especially. He dropped out in group stages, which is a shame because I think we had a lot of fun in scrims."

The interviewer looks panicked — she obviously hadn't planned for Renjun to switch languages, and her eyes have gone wide.

"But you know," Renjun continues, "I don't know if he's watching this, but I just want to make a shout to Solar from Team Liquid. He was a good player when we were trainees, and I'm sure he's only going to get better."

He launches into Chinese next and the interviewer gives an audible sigh of relief — clearly Renjun is repeating himself.

Donghyuck just turns the TV off, picks up his phone and tells Renjun to go fuck himself.

  
  
  
  
  


Technically Renjun should be prepping, or scrimming, or something of the sort. Donghyuck's not really sure. The reason was likely lost when he slammed Renjun up against the wall and kissed him, or maybe when he'd jammed his thigh between Renjun's legs, or when Renjun's tongue had found its way into his mouth, or when his hand had cupped his cock through his jeans or — fucking whatever. It doesn't fucking matter. It's not about the game right now. 

Donghyuck is on his knees in front of a short shitty leather couch somewhere in the back of the TSM training facility that OMG are currently using as their base camp and Renjun's cock is in his throat and whenever Donghyuck looks up at Renjun he feels so fucking alive. He feels anger and lust and the spark of competition in his gut, feels it all set alight like a flamethrower to a dry forest. The noises Renjun makes are sinful and he fucks Donghyuck's mouth like he's a fucking toy to him, and Donghyuck wants _more._ It's like all the frustration from the past few years comes pouring out here, like they're taking it out on each other. 

There's tears pricking in the corners of his eyes when Renjun comes in his mouth and Donghyuck drinks it down, licking every last drop from him and allowing Renjun to pull him up by his hair and kiss him silly. He jerks him off in return and despite what Donghyuck had in mind Renjun won't let him come on his face — so he's forced to finish on his hand instead, sneaking off to the bathroom to return with a wad of toilet paper they throw in the bin.

"Is this us resolving our sexual tension?" Renjun says.

Donghyuck tells him to go fuck himself (again).

  
  
  
  
  


OMG lose the semifinals.

Despite this, the Chinese really do know how to party. Donghyuck doesn't get that drunk, but he still feels like he’s spinning through a whirlwind of diamonds as he kisses Renjun against a neon lit fish tank in some rich bar on the downtown shorefront. The snapper scales behind him glisten like raindrops in the sunlight, and every part of Renjun is glowing.

It's like punching through a dam, like everything comes loose. It's something they can leave in America — in the sheets of Renjun's hotel bed, in the sheets of Donghyuck's bed in his apartment. Hands in each other's hair, tangles of limbs and comforters and pillows and whatever crumbs Renjun keeps pulling off Donghyuck's mattress. There's laughter but mostly it's teeth and nails, red marks on each other's skin, a roughness only reserved for those you've opened your heart to. They don't fucking talk about it, and maybe that's what's healthy for them anyway. They only have a week and a half left before Renjun returns home, and it's best not to muddy the waters. It's best to take this for what it is, another step forward into the unknown. Another path framed by gasoline that the two of them have walked with feet of fire.

If Donghyuck looks behind him he can see his steps aglow, and in front of him everything is cinder.

  
  
  
  


Renjun goes home, and Donghyuck does too. He takes an offer from Sandbox Gaming and almost cries when he touches back down in Incheon. His new apartment isn't as big as Liquid's, or as nice as SKT's, but it's _home._ He's back in Korea, and though he's going to miss the LA sunsets and the American food and waking up to Chenle's raucous laughter and seeing Jaemin backstage at the LCS stadium, he's not going to miss much else. The night after he comes back he goes out for dinner with Jisung and Jeno and they spill so much soju between them Donghyuck's not sure how he even makes it back to the gaming house — he has to call his manager and get him to pick him up, which likely isn't a good look for a brand new signing.

The year is fine. Donghyuck is a better player than he thinks he is, and though it's not enough to carry Sandbox to worlds, it is enough to bring them to Rift Rivals, where he happily fucks Renjun against the wall of his high rise hotel room, his hands splayed against the glass as all of Shanghai stretches out before them. He finds some smug satisfaction when Korea beats China — when Jeno cements his spot as the best top laner in the world as he grinds the Chinese first seed into the dust and hoists the trophy above his head with a roar. The confetti rains down and Renjun doesn't even seem to care that his region just got the shit beat out of it — he just kisses Donghyuck stupid and tells him that worlds is the only thing that matters.

If Donghyuck thinks he's compensating for something — well. He doesn't say it.

  
  
  
  
  


"So," Jeno says. They're sitting in the war room at SKT’S new training facility, walls plastered with pictures of their various trophy wins and the new black and red branding. It's nothing as fancy as the American facilities (or the Chinese ones for that matter — Renjun's sent him pictures of OMG's house and it basically looks like a moon base), but it's still extremely nice.

"So?" Donghyuck raises his eyebrow. He's getting ramen soup all over the table, but he'll clean it up later. They've been doing LAN scrims with SKT all day, and it's been nice enough. It's always nice to play with Jeno — even if it comes with a bit of sulking from his team, they're all friends in the end. The rest of them have gone out for lunch together but Donghyuck had opted to stay behind, mostly because it had seemed like Jeno had been itching to catch him alone.

"You and Renjun, huh?"

Donghyuck snorts. "What about us?"

"Did you work out what was up with him?"

"I have no fucking clue," Donghyuck says. It's partially true. He has an inkling, but he and Renjun don't really talk about that much. They tend to skirt around that whole year and half in general, to be honest. They're back to talking about things that aren't League and they're back to acting like they don't hate each other (that much). It's like equilibrium has been restored — like Donghyuck has stepped off a tightrope he didn't even know he was walking on — and he really doesn't want to mess with it. He's come back home and he's got Renjun again and he gets to see Jeno and Jisung every week and see his mom and dad too, and everything just seems really, really nice for once.

Jeno laughs, taking a sip from his milk tea and chewing on the boba as he thinks. "Well. You seem happy. I'm glad for you."

"Thanks," Donghyuck says. Jeno gives him a beaming smile.

"It makes me happy to see you happy. I don't know if it was just America, but you seemed miserable over there, dude."

Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders. "It was great until it wasn't. I felt ungrateful. The house was nice and the weather was lovely and they paid me well and they took care of me and Chenle was basically the best AD carry I could have asked for in the end, and it still fucking _sucked_."

"Sometimes things just suck. Sometimes it can all go right and it doesn't work out, right? It's just how life is. Shit doesn't make sense."

"Where's all this sage advice coming from?"

Jeno smiles sheepishly. "Just been trying to be more positive. I think it doesn't help being negative about things. Sometimes you have to let it go.” 

Donghyuck slurps up his noodles and hums, but it seems Jeno isn’t finished. He looks Donghyuck in the eye and nods to him. 

“And then sometimes it comes back to you if you want it bad enough."

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck gets to watch the World Championship as a fan this time, not as a player. When it comes to the playoffs — when it comes to OMG vs Damwon — he finds himself cheering for the Chinese for once in his life, screaming his lungs out as Renjun pulls off a miracle teamfight and turns the game on it's head. He's proud of Renjun — like he's somehow personally invested in him now. Renjun is named the MVP, and he mentions Donghyuck in his exit interview again — how Sandbox's Solar has been a positive influence on him.

When they fuck it's less vicious this time. The media has painted them as rivals, but Donghyuck doesn't see it like that. They're not competing against each other — not really. Renjun still draws his teeth against his chest and his nails still dig into Donghyuck's skin, but there's something raw about their sex. There's something just below the surface, an undercurrent both of them can barely deny. Renjun's eyes spark with it and Donghyuck feels it thrum through every part of him, swallowed as he kisses Renjun and asks for more from him. Everything is blinding and bright — and it tastes so very sweet.

  
  
  
  
  


Another loss for Renjun. Another World Championship gone, and though there's a stubborn pride in his voice when he talks to Donghyuck, there's a resignation too. He still wants to be the best — but he's doubting that he is.

"You don't have to be the best player in the world," Jisung says. They're queueing up as three — Renjun on his old Korean account, braving the increased latency just to play with them — and at this point they've been waiting for almost ten minutes to find a match. "Just the best team."

"Great advice from the number one mid laner in the world," Renjun says with a laugh. 

"You see what a load of good that's done me?" Jisung says. It's slightly bitter. He's been with Afreeca for three years, and while Donghyuck knows he enjoys playing with them, it doesn't take a genius to see he's far better than anyone else on the team. "It's a team game, Renjun. Look at who you surround yourself with. Sometimes you just work better with some people than others."

Donghyuck goes to SKT and Jeno goes to KT — and Jisung and Chenle both go to the same team in China — but that's not even the biggest surprise the new season has to offer him. The biggest surprise is when Jeno turns up on his doorstep with Renjun beside him. The biggest surprise is when Renjun turns around and shows him his KT jacket — his IGN emblazoned across the back.

“You came back?” Donghyuck says. There’s snow on the roadside and the sky is grey and Jeno’s got a scarf around his neck and his glasses are flecked with melted snowflakes and he’s smiling — he’s wearing a mask but he’s smiling, he can see it in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Wanted to keep it a surprise,” Jeno says. Renjun grins at him and raises his eyebrows.

“I came back,” he says. “You can’t keep me away forever, Donghyuck.”

“You mean I have to play against both of you now?”

“Oh yes,” Renjun says. “Get ready for the ass-whopping of your life.”

  
  
  
  
  


The first half of the year goes like this: Donghyuck scrims with SKT, and SKT scrims with KT. The two of them build on their rivalry — it’s only natural, after all. The three trainees — as they’ve become known. It’s played up all through the season and when the matches are over the three of them go out together. 

Sometimes it’s the three of them. Sometimes it’s just Donghyuck and Renjun. Sometimes they stay out in the spring nights together and get hotteok and cradle it between their numb fingers and lick the sugar from their skin. Sometimes they sneak into each other’s dorms and wake up tangled in the sheets. Sometimes Renjun kisses Donghyuck backstage — sometimes Donghyuck does the same. 

There’s a narrative there, of course. The rivalry that stretches back to Worlds and to their first year on SKT together. KT makes a poster for the Spring Split finals with both of them as their favourite champions — Renjun’s Evelynn looming over Donghyuck’s Leona, a single spark in the darkness — and Donghyuck pins it up in his room. 

  
  
  
  
  


The latter half of the year goes like this: KT wins spring split — and MSI — but SKT wins summer split, somehow securing first seed for Worlds. Even without Jeno it’s the strongest SKT has ever looked — but it’s also the strongest _KT_ has ever looked.

In the midst of the autumn leaves and neverending scrims, Donghyuck and Renjun find the time to picnic beside the Han together. 

“You know only one of us can win the cup,” Renjun says. He’s fiddling with the case of a box of macarons they’d brought at the bakery, and when he finally gets it open he just straight up sticks one in Donghyuck’s mouth as he opens it to respond.

“Excuse me,” Donghyuck says through a mouthful of meringue. “That’s rude.”

Renjun pops one into his mouth and shrugs, as if to ask what Donghyuck is going to do about it.

Kiss him, he thinks. The sky is on fire and the wind is still warm and a group of schoolgirls passes by them on bikes and Renjun’s lips would be sugary sweet, but something holds Donghyuck back.

They still don't talk about it. Whatever _it_ is. Renjun wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he finishes chewing, his eyes glazing over before he snaps back to reality as a crow screeches overhead. “What were we talking about again?” he asks.

“You interrupted me.”

“Oh, right. The cup. About how we’re gonna win.”

Donghyuck laughs. “In your fucking _dreams_.”

  
  
  
  


It all builds up to this. This cheeriness in Renjun’s step, this surety that this is the time. This is their year. No more losses, no slip ups. They crush group stages and sweep the quarterfinals 3-0, and Renjun is riding high. 

Donghyuck is too, but he’s more realistic. SKT’s record is shakier, and he’s not sure if they can pull it together. 

He’s not sure, and he’s right. It starts well — they crush the first two games — but it all falls apart. They crumble like a sandcastle under a tsunami, and it’s all over. The summoner’s cup slips between their fingers and Donghyuck tries to put on a good face on the stage — waving to all the fans and biting back his tears, picking the confetti from his hair and congratulating the European team that beats them — but when he goes back to his hotel room he curls up in his sheets and cries.

He cries and he cries, feeling like his chest has been crushed. Feeling like everything has been crushed. Their jungler — a seventeen year old kid fresh from solo queue — sits beside him and buries his face in his shoulder and wraps his arms around Donghyuck, trying to comfort him even as he hiccups and sobs. It feel hilariously stupid because he's the veteran he should be soothing him. He should be used to this. But it still hurts. He still feels like a failure. He'd thought they had a chance this year — had been riding high when they'd crushed the first two games. The reverse sweep had been like watching his dreams torn from his fingers piece by piece. It had hurt like nothing he'd felt before, and Donghyuck finds himself wondering if it's worth it. If he'll ever be good enough.

Maybe he isn't. Maybe this is it. Maybe he's simply made to make mistakes, and there's nothing he can do about it.

There's nothing he can do about it. It's over now, and all he can do is watch and wait and hope that next year that will be better. Hope that KT can take it — that if he can't win, then at least his friends can.

  
  
  
  
  


It's heartbreaking watching KT lose — watching the other team bleed them dry. Inch by inch, fight by fight, Donghyuck watches it all slip away. Renjun eats dirt trying to steal an objective. Jeno is caught out walking to his lane. Small things that wear them away, and when the Nexus explodes for the final time he can see it in their eyes — something hollow as the casters lament Gen.G as the only remaining hope for Korea. 

SKT has fallen. KT has fallen. It’s up to the third seed now. 

It's all these little mistakes that add up — and then Donghyuck makes another one. 

  
  
  
  
  


Renjun is alone at the bar. He's swirling something around in his glass but he's not drinking it — he's just looking at it, face blank and pale. Donghyuck slides into the seat beside him and Renjun doesn't even look up. 

"Jeno, I don't want it," he says. 

"Should I be offended you think I'm Jeno?" 

His gaze doesn’t move, but he acknowledges Donghyuck. Something crosses against his face, a split second series of emotions that lose their finer detail in the gloom of the room. "Do you think it's offensive?"

Relief disguised as irritation, maybe.

"It's about the intent." 

"There was none." Renjun takes a sip of his drink. The noise of the afterparty comes through the ballroom doors behind them, but Donghyuck has no desire to rejoin it. He likes crowds, but this is not one he feels like he belongs to. "Come to gloat?” Renjun adds. “SKT didn't look so hot, but I guess I'm as bad as you are now, aren't I?" 

Donghyuck offers a smile to the bartender and shakes his head. _No drinks for me_. "Not here to gloat. Just to comfort." 

Renjun sighs. "I don't need it." 

"Don't play that with me."

"My greatest rival, the infallible Solar. Coming to me in my worst time to salt the wound." He looks up at Donghyuck. There's tear tracks on his cheeks he hadn't noticed before, and his eyes are red and puffy. He looks defeated — crushed. "Isn't that how the story goes?" 

"You're the one who wrote it. I'm just an actor." 

"And you play your part well." 

"Do I?” His fingers itch — he wants to touch Renjun so badly, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to. It’s quiet and lonely in here, but it’s not one of their spaces. It’s not a dressing room or a cleaning closet or the bathroom on an aeroplane, tears in Renjun’s eyes as he jerks Donghyuck off with his back jammed to the wall. It’s open and wide and Renjun is vulnerable. “I was in your spot a few days ago, Renjun. I know how it feels." 

Renjun’s sigh is shaky. “Yeah?”

“The crushing feeling? Like you’re a disappointment? Like you’ve failed everyone — your team, your fans, your fucking country? Like you shouldn’t even be allowed to show your face in public with how hard you’ve fucked it up?” Donghyuck lays his hand out on the bar, palm up. Renjun looks at it for a second before he joins their hands together and lets them drop down into the space between them. 

He doesn’t answer. Instead he looks at Donghyuck with steely eyes, with a fire that won’t ever stop burning and asks him something simple.

"Do you want to go back to my room?" 

It’s a scary question. There's a lot behind it — a lot of implicit promises and assumptions of trust and five fucking years of moving in circles. Five fucking years of whatever this is, stretched between them. Sometimes Donghyuck goes back and watches that clip from Worlds — the way Renjun had looked directly into the camera and said in _Korean_ that he was looking forward to playing against Donghyuck. The shiver it had sent down his spine. The tremor in his voice, almost disguised by his smug smirk.

Oh, he’d been afraid. So very afraid. Donghyuck thinks he’s beginning to understand — something caught between the lights of the studio and the sheets of their hotel rooms, something passed in their kisses, in the way Renjun’s eyes sparkle when he’s on his knees for Donghyuck. In the way his fingers feel digging into Donghyuck’s bicep, the way he snarls his name as he fucks him. Nails drawn down his chest, red marks that pulse as Donghyuck sits down on stage and loads up into another game against him. Oceans between them — now just a few blocks, a walk down the street in the blustering autumn rain, in the spring with the cherry blossom petals crushed under their feet, pressing Renjun against the door and telling him he missed him.

Maybe he should be afraid now. It’s a terrifying circumstance, so close to breaking this glass wall the both of them pretend not to shatter. Why shatter it when you can slip past the defences, anyway? Pretend there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says. Renjun downs the last of his drink and pulls Donghyuck with him, down the corridor to the lifts, out of the darkness and into the light.

  
  
  
  
  


The curtains are open in Renjun’s room and all of Barcelona stretches out in front of him, millions of glittering lights that arrange themselves into perfect squares as the cityscape turns into the old town. There’s boats flickering off the coastline and cars zigzagging along the roads like arteries and the orange lights of street lamps that dot the sidewalks and the tiny splashes of colour from restaurant signs and stop lights turning green, snakes of traffic sliding through intersections. A city that breathes, so alive. 

A boy that breathes, so alive in Donghyuck’s arms. He kisses him slowly, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, the tinge of the salt from his tears, tasting the time that stretches between them, all condensed into this space. Into Renjun’s hands in his hair and the sobs that he bites back and all the disappointment they both carry in their hearts. Their dreams are torn away from them, but there’s always another year. They both know it and they don’t say it. They let their bodies speak, like they’ve done so many times before.

There’s so few words exchanged, but so much said between them still. A ‘yes’, marked by Renjun’s hand on his hip. Something that stutters into a gasp, something that Donghyuck doesn’t quite understand. He undresses Renjun slowly — pushing his jacket to the floor and throwing his own on top of it. It’s their team colours — red on black — a reminder they’re still on opposite sides. A reminder it’s never fucking mattered. Donghyuck hits the bed and Renjun’s mouth is on him, kissing up his chest, kissing down his navel, wet and hot where he takes Donghyuck in. A bump of the shoulder, the trace of his fingers over the shape of Donghyuck’s body. Digging into his ribs, like he could excavate his skin and understand the history between them just like this. 

A kiss, like the way Donghyuck had always dreamt it to be. Long and lingering, their bodies rolling together. Renjun’s hand is too small to hold both of them inside his fist and Donghyuck reaches up and does it for him, drinking in the long moan he unleashes. His hand is slick with lube and there’s a slippery slide as they move against each other, Renjun rutting with stuttering hips and small gasps. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue, but Donghyuck won’t say it. He won’t say it against Renjun’s lips, or against his shoulder, won’t say it when he’s sitting in Renjun’s lap and Renjun is inside of him. He won’t say it anywhere else — not backstage, not in the middle of the night, not in their Kakaotalk conversations that move as quickly as a lahar down an erupting volcano. 

Instead he says Renjun’s name. Instead he holds his face in his hands and kisses him and hopes it’s enough. He hopes Renjun understands — that he can read it in his body language, in the way Donghyuck moves around him. How he asks for more, how he smothers himself in him. Surely they understand each other well enough for this. 

Maybe, maybe just — maybe Renjun’s mouth against his neck. Renjun’s mouth on his. His hand wrapped around him, his stuttering gasps. Maybe Donghyuck can’t hold it, and it breaks through him like a tide hitting the shore, like lightning striking the horizon, like the roar of the crowd in his ears. The lights of the city spinning through the window, Renjun spinning through his senses. He’s inside him but it’s not enough. 

Sure, it’s sex. Sure it’s this thing they do, the way their bodies move together, but there’s always been something else. Something else Donghyuck has never put his finger on, something he’s never dared to dig into.

  
  
  
  
  


(He knows what it is. They both do.)

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck finds Renjun in front of the trophy case. His hair is dyed dark silver and he's wearing his KT jacket and his glasses are designer, the same brand as his shoes. He's taller and bulkier and the years have been kind to his face — turning him sharp and handsome — but Donghyuck still sees the 18 year old boy he’d met in the practice room for the first time in him. 

"Whatcha doing?" Donghyuck asks. They'd thrashed their last game, forcing a ten minute open mid.

"Just thinking."

"Thinking you'd never be back here with me?"

"Something of the sort."

Donghyuck bumps his shoulder. “And?”

Renjun turns to him and arches an eyebrow. “What?”

Donghyuck just smiles. They’ll be playing on opposite sides again this year but there’s a little less animosity about it now. A little more understanding.

“Do you ever wonder why I was so nasty to you?” Renjun asks. It’s a little sudden, but Donghyuck laughs.

“All the time. For years.”

“I won’t give you the satisfaction of telling you it was because I liked you.”

“Just the confirmation.”

Renjun huffs a laugh and throws his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, pulling him close to kiss his cheek. “Just the confirmation,” he repeats. “Don’t want your head to get too big. Look what happened to Jisung.”

“Playing in China with my old AD carry?”

“Right? And isn’t that a disaster?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Renjun, but we’re not the most put together people either.”

“No,” Renjun says. He leans his head against Donghyuck’s, eyes fixed on the 2023 Summer Split cup. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

Donghyuck breathes out a sigh. “I suppose it does.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i've literally wanted to write a fic like this for YEARS so to finally do it is awesome. sorry to all my friends who've had to listen to me talk about renhyuck gamer boys for so long <3 hopefully this makes up for it.
> 
> thank you so much to val for organising this <3 you're a sweetheart!! ty to vivi for betaing and letting me abuse your lack of league knowledge <3
> 
> [twitter ](https://twitter.com/dongrenle)and [cc.](https://curiouscat.me/goldhorn) come yell @ me about league things pls.


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